


Senses of Love

by Mar_isu



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: General, Multi-Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2006-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-23 06:39:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3758176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mar_isu/pseuds/Mar_isu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Birthday drabbles for Forodwaith, March 2006.  The magic of Elves is in their crafts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sight

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

**Vision.**

The water ripples when I breathe on it.  Beneath the shelter of the Two Trees, there is a still pool, clearer than even Varda's mantle, and the light of the Trees seems to gather in the quiet water.  The calm surface is smooth and polished, like a mirror.  I stare into the depths . . . and find myself staring back.  A white star in my other-self's hand holds back the darkness as the last light of the Trees goes to one who walks openly into Shadow.  The water ripples as I fill the vial, knowing that Ages will pass before the Burdened One will have need of it.  Vision done, I stand and go, but I will return.

For this mirror shows many things.

**AN:** I realize that, technically, the star-glass is the light of Eärendil.  However, Eärendil gets his light from the Silmaril that Elwing brought to him.  And the Silmarils were made to hold the light of the Two Trees.  Therefore, I would argue that any light of the Two Trees could be said to be the light of Eärendil.  



	2. Hearing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Birthday drabbles for Forodwaith, March 2006. The magic of Elves is in their crafts.

**Voice.**

He loves what he does.  That's why he's the Senior Master, while I'm still a Junior.  But sometimes I wonder if he doesn't love his craft too much.  This new journeyman, for example.  He's good, but he doesn't love the work.  I wonder if he loves anything.  But the Master will teach him, for the power of ring-making should not be hoarded.  For love of the craft, the craft is taught.  

I do not have a love powerful enough for truly great Ring-making, and I wonder that the journeyman does.  The newcomer makes Rings such as I have never seen, set with stones of great power.  Seven he has made and nine of another kind.  My three, weak attempts made for the love of the Master and Arda, pale in comparison.

Still, when the Black Tongue steals sleep, I flee.

Better Three made in love but weak, than One to Rule made in hate.

**AN:** I have a hard time believing that Celebrimbor thought nothing was wrong up to the point of the forging of the One Ring.  So this is where my mind goes.


	3. Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Birthday drabbles for Forodwaith, March 2006. The magic of Elves is in their crafts.

**Victuals.**

I sing over the bread.

Rest to the weary.  Strength to the faltering.  Clarity to the confused.  All this and more I knead into the dough, as I have done every day for millennia.

Yesterday I made a double batch, singing healing, courage, and hope into the wafers before wrapping them in the mallorn leaves with whispers of protection and peace.  They will keep as long as they must and will still be just as sweet as when I pulled them from the coals.

And the Dwarf thought it was cram.


	4. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Birthday drabbles for Forodwaith, March 2006. The magic of Elves is in their crafts.

**Vicious.**

The fire burns and I thank Aulë for the heat.  
Water cools and I thank Ulmo for the waves.  
The blade slices air and I thank Manwë for winds to cleave.  
Vines twine about the blade to honor Yavanna.  
Your Evenstar, Varda, will grace the bearer of this sword.  
Oromë grant safety as we hunt the Shadow.  
Mandos receive those who fall.  
Nienna weeps for them already.  
The Aratar bless the King returned.  
In this way is Narsil reforged and Andúril born.

**AN:**   The Aratar are the eight high Valar named in the previous.  No I did not make the word up.


	5. Smell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Birthday drabbles for Forodwaith, March 2006. The magic of Elves is in their crafts.

**Vital.**

I can smell the healing in this plant.  The Valar blessed my brother indeed when they gifted Númenor with asëa aranion.  Little more than a weed to some, in the hands of my line it is a gift beyond price to the wounded.  It smells to me of Celebrían, in the days when we were happy.  It is five hundred years since she sailed, but I remember her every time I teach another of my brother's descendants of this plant, and the love of a King which makes it heal.  As I do now.

"Estel, this is athelas.  Can you smell it?"


End file.
